


Best Part

by wooriesbear (orphan_account)



Category: Stray Kids (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Crushes, Feelings, Friends to Lovers, I Tried, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-01
Updated: 2019-08-01
Packaged: 2020-07-28 21:06:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,468
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20070583
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/wooriesbear
Summary: Perfect, unflawed Bang Chan. With perfect, unflawed Kim Woojin. What can ever go wrong?Apparently, a lot. Or none.





	Best Part

**Author's Note:**

> so maybe i was too sleepy to properly check for any mistake and i'm sorry for that :')

Chan took a long exhale, feeling the dull headache in the back of his head now enveloping all the way around his head. It was certainly not helping with any of his thought process. Not that he had any in the first place. He massaged his temple, like how CEOs in Hyunjin’s favorite dramas did. And the headache remained there. 

“Look, we only need a couple more sponsors-“

“And where are we gonna dig for that with the time we have?” The voice cutting Chan off was strained, apparently trying to hold back whatever emotions, if there was any involved. “Less than two weeks to go, I doubt anyone would take us up on this.”

“But we can try- I mean, there’re still plenty of places we haven’t checked out.”

“How many place did you cover, Minho?” The same voice all but ignored whatever Chan was trying to say.

“Almost 75%.. We can hope for the other one fourth- I mean- There’s no need to be discouraged now, right?” Said Minho was shifting in his seat, pledging Chan for support with his eyes.

“Minho’s right. We can just forward our proposals to the other 25%. Chill-"

“No. I can’t chill. The admins were bugging me non-stop the past month to complete the sponsorship.” The voice was as monotonous as it could ever be, and Chan was tired of it.

“You have to put some trust in us, you know. We’re working hard for this too.” Chan’s dejected voice echoed in the tiny meeting room. “I’m sorry, I’m not feeling well. We’ll wrap up with forwarding the proposals to any other places we haven’t try. And we’ll have another meeting by the end of this week. See how it goes. Thanks.” Chan did not spare anyone else in the room, not even Minho, a glance as he got up and leave.

And silence dawned upon them, with tension still thick in the air.

*

“I don’t know what the hell is his problem.” Chan’s voice bounced off the thin wall of the shabby room he’s sharing with his treasurer, Jisung. “It doesn’t take any ounce of his goddamned energy to be positive.”

Chan all but sighed at recalling what went down the past couple of days, and Jisung followed suit. Talk about two depressed student body committee regretting their life choices.

“He’s dragging the whole team down. And for what?!” Chan grunted, leaning his head back against the wall and staring at the oh-so-interesting water stained ceiling.

“I don’t know. I just want this to be over soon.” Jisung sighed into his knees, eyes fixated on Chan who hasn’t blinked for a while now.

“Ugh.”

“Wait- Why- Bro…” Jisung’s voice drawls out, yet he remained on his bed, watching Chan cry silently.

“I know you probably don’t want to think about the carnival now. But Minho told me he secured another four sponsors. I calculated and we’re good to go.” Jisung mumbled under his breath, afraid he’d trigger Chan further.

Jisung sometimes hate to be right.

Chan all but cried louder, but a stupid dimpled smile was plastered on his face. It was almost painful for Jisung to watch. Quite literally. The corner of his lips almost touched his earlobe, if it ever make sense.

“You should’ve told me sooner.” Chan wiped his tears with the sleeve of his shirt, sniffling. “Shouldn’t have wasted my tears on that asshole.” If Jisung noticed Chan’s reddening tip of ears at his last word, he wouldn’t mention it. Maybe he’d tell Minho.

And maybe Chan was a little more masochistic than anyone would have guessed.

*

“Good job, Chan!” Principal Im shook Chan’s hand, and so did Vice Principal Park. 

And some other people Chan couldn’t really tell apart from the sea of people visiting that day also came to congratulate him, on behalf of his team. By the time the carnival was over, Chan had a sore shoulder but he wouldn’t complain about it. And he shall say his literal sweat and tears working on the carnival was worth it.

“Chan!” A cheery voice bellowed across the emptying field, waving at him excitedly.

“Aye, Felix!”

Chan went over the petite male and hugged him tightly. It had been a while since they last seen each other. Being in neighboring schools often time sucks, with rivalry and what not.

“Bro, that was some superb carnival you put up.” Felix beamed, his freckles seemed to shimmer in the background of the setting sun.

“Nah, I got this far thanks to my team.” Chan replied all bashful, one arm still slung over Felix’s smaller frame. 

“Stop downplaying your role, Mr. President.” Felix was half mocking half praising and Chan laughed at it all the same.

Chan made sure he stayed back until the last food truck left the school field. He was slowly packing up his stuffs from his locker when his Vice President was fumbling in a hurry a couple locker’s down from him.

“Hey? Woojin? Will you come for dinner?” Chan’s voice was small, but loud enough in the empty locker area.

Woojin acknowledged him with a haste nod, eyes quickly going back to his stuffs. “’M sorry. Can’t make it.” And the next three seconds, he was gone. Leaving Chan in disappointment as he locked his locker.

*

The small apartment was blaring with EDM, merit to Jisung’s counterpart astounding effort in convincing Seo Changbin, the music club’s president, to lend them their Bluetooth speakers for the night. Minho might have had held a folded paper with what seemed to be Changbin’s handwriting and mentioning a certain Australian freckled boy every now and then to make the shorter blush, and no one, especially not Jisung should know that. 

He’d like to stand by his non-existent principle of no threatening in his businesses. At least in Jisung’s eyes.

Chan was happy. He really was. The carnival wrapped up smoothly, praises were thrown left and right. And Chan was sure he’d go down one of the most iconic president JYP High ever had, right after his senior Younghyun. But somehow his stomach still dropped. His smiles didn’t really reach his eyes as he wanted them to. As much as he was aware, he’d like to deny why he was feeling as such.

Ignorance is indeed a bliss.

Hyunjin was tending to the many sodas he gathered on the small table, well informed of the space he was going to work with. Credit due to being childhood friends to both Chan and Jisung. The two, or three in this instance, were inseparable since five. Growing up, Chan’s family decided to move to Australia. Jisung and him had cried hours non-stop in their treehouse when Chan first told them. Somehow, Chan stayed and had been living with Jisung’s family. They rented a small apartment closer to school to save on the commuting time, Jisung’s parents, so did Chan’s, was cool about it.

The apartment was somehow their refuge. Their safe haven.

“Can you get the door, Chan?” Minho chimed from where he was tangled with Jisung on the couch watching whatever sappy movie on the bleary TV screen despite not hearing a single word they were saying.

Chan got up without a word, looking at the built in intercom’s screen. As lousy as the apartment was, at least the security wasn’t one to be compromised. He pressed a button.

“Yes?”

“Chicken delivery.”

If Chan felt like the voice was familiar, he’d blame himself. He had been wallowing in self-pity ever since the rejection he got earlier that evening. And psychosis was more than likely in his case.

“Uh.” Chan fidgeted. Feeling the tiniest bit paranoid since the delivery boy slash man still had his helmet on. How could he be sure he wouldn’t be harmed? It could be an assassin in disguise for all he know.

“Can you take your helmet off? You’re in a building.” Chan tried to sound firm. He probably succeeded.

The delivery guy was struggling to take his helmet off. Grunting lowly as he tried to balance the two handful chicken in one. In all honesty, Chan wasn’t liking the negative vibe radiating from him. But the chicken wouldn’t walk themselves in, would they?

Chan shuffled to the door, opening the door just enough to have his face peeking out. Little did he know how much regret he’d be through. This might be one of the thing he’d change in his next life. If he would have any.

“Woojin-”

The door slammed on Chan’s face, right where his nose was and the pain didn’t take long to course in his system. Relativity at its finest. He opened the door again, placing the stopper to reveal Woojin in all black. Black hoodie, black jeans, black sneakers, black hair. Black messy hair. Chan was utterly fucked, well not literally.

“Your chicken.” Woojin mumbled, almost shoving the plastic bags in Chan’s face. And if Woojin was a little pale, Chan completely missed to note it.

“Oh, right.” Chan hurriedly reached over for the plastics, thanking his one brain cell suggesting to grab the 50,000 bill on his way out.

Within a couple of swift and quick movements, Chan found himself standing in his doorway with two bags of chicken in one hand, loose changes and a receipt in the other and a smeared tint of red just below his nose.

Maybe Woojin had wiped his nosebleed with his sleeve. Or maybe Chan imagined it after being concussed.

Chan was done for.

*

The wind whooshes violently past his ears, muffling all the other sounds around him. Especially his own frantic heartbeat. He parked his bike in front of the chicken shop, easing his way inside to find Seungmin studying by one of the empty tables. 

“I told you to study in your room, Seungmin.” His voice tender, not as emotionless as he made it be at school.

“No? I want to help. And I can help.” Seungmin replied, getting up to clear one of the table after a couple left.

“Dad got me and Wonpil hyung. You should just focus on your study.”

“So do you.” It was rather a simple statement, but Seungmin’s glassy eyes made it difficult for both of them.

“I’m good.” Woojin countered before leaving his helmet by the shoe rack, and walking up to his room without sparing a second glance at Seungmin.

Woojin had been helping his dad with delivery ever since his final year in high school started. As much as he would like to believe his family was financially decent, the constant bickering he’d overhear when he stayed up to study was suggesting otherwise. When his brother, Wonpil, offered to help do delivery, he said he could chip in too. These days they were doing pretty good. Much better than before, at least.

Juggling his study, Vice President position and doing chicken delivery took a toll on Woojin’s body. He would deny it every time Seungmin peeked into his room at the strong smell of ointment, but he was slowly deteriorating. Not quite the severely ill deteriorating, just his muscles getting sore almost every single day now and how his joints will crack every time he jolt awake for school in the morning.

And today out of all days, he had to see Bang Chan. The Bang Chan. His President. Despite his cold treatment in every meeting they had, he couldn’t deny the very much present attraction. But he doubt Chan would like to be involved with someone of a mess like himself. And for the record, he had turned down almost all of the invitation to have dinner with the student body. Honestly, if he wasn’t as desperate to help his dad, he might’ve accepted. If only he’s a little more selfish when it comes to himself.

*

Their monthly meeting was about to start. Save for one empty chair next to Chan. Minho and Jisung was exchanging winks across the table, and if not for the other committees present in the room, Chan would have barfed on the table. 

“Anyone knows where Woojin is?” Chan voiced out, worry subtly laced in his tone.

“I think I saw him this morning.” Their junior committee, Jeongin, chimed.

“Okay so we’ll wait for another five minutes? We’ll need the presentation from him too-“

Chan’s offer hung in the air when the door to the room creaked open gently. Like one in those over budgeted horror films did.

“Sorry. I’m late.” Woojin’s voice was hollow, borderline hoarse to Chan’s ears.

The room was dead silent when all eyes were fixed on Woojin sluggishly walking over to his chair. If anyone noticed how pale he was, and how sweat was beading on his forehead, no one dared to mention it. Except for Chan.

“Woojin, are you okay? You look sick. Do-“

“I’m okay. We can proceed with the meeting.” Woojin cut Chan off yet again, one hand noticeably clutching to his stomach and Chan was getting more anxious in his own seat.

When it was his turn to present, Woojin was wobbling by his chair. The last thing Chan remembered was him leaping over to catch Woojin in his arms before the taller slumped against him, completely unconscious.

It wasn’t until later that evening that Chan managed to slip out to the nurse’s room. Mostly he was being stopped by Woojin’s endless queue of admirers asking about how he was. It was tiring on Chan’s part, one because there were so many of them and two he was anxious at the number of his probable rivals. Rivals. Because Chan was tired of denying he had been crushing on Woojin ever since the first year.

Chan remembered the days that Woojin wasn’t as cold as he was now. He remembered warm Woojin who’d share his lunch box when Chan only brought packets of jellies because neither him nor Jisung were decent cooks. He remembered the days he’d struggle with his algebra and Woojin was his knight in shining armor who’d have brought him to his missing x. Chan still chuckle over the fact that he was being dumb on sports day and Woojin all but carried him the whole way from the field to the nurse’s room because he sprained his ankle.

But rainbows weren’t meant to last. It still rained though Chan prayed so hard that it wouldn’t.

Chan started the final year of high school being estranged with his crush slash close friend Kim Woojin. And Chan didn’t know if there was any other teenage drama that could top the angst in his story. Woojin had avoided him on multiple occasions. Despite trying not to show he was affected by it, Chan was after all a soft baby.

A softie. And a baby.

It wasn’t until a day before closing of registration for student body’s election that Chan filled up the form. All thanks to Hyunjin for letting him know Woojin was running for it too. And Chan had thought that if they were to work together, maybe they could fix whatever went wrong.

And Chan was never more wrong than that.

*

Woojin stirred awake to a distant hum he had heard in his slumber. Bringing up one hand, he rubs over his heavy lids, slowly trying to adjust to his relatively bright surrounding. If sunset is considered as bright, that is. His eyes wandered to take in his surrounding, noticing the familiar hand washing poster by the sink from the time he had to drop students by. 

“You’re up.”

Woojin let his eyes took their time before landing on an exhilarating view. Or human, rather. Chan bathed in the sunset’s golden hues. That’s it. Woojin had had a good life.

“How’re you feeling?” Woojin could feel Chan was trying to lighten his tone, and trying not to rap at 190mph of why Woojin ended up in the nurse’s room.

“Yeah. Just dizzy… A bit-“ Woojin cut himself off at how groggy he sounded. How long had he been out, he wondered.

“Well.. You collapsed when you were trying to get up and I brought you here. The nurse had you checked, saying that you haven’t been eating and drinking well. And you’re coming down with a fever.”

The male half sitting half lying on the bed automatically brought his hand over his forehead. Frowning the slightest when he noticed his temperature just to earn a light-hearted chuckle from the paler man sitting by the bed.

“Get some rest. I may, or may not have talked to your parents about it.” Contrasting his light, loud, carefree chuckle, Chan’s voice was almost muted even. And Woojin didn’t like it.

“Thanks, Chan.”

“Eh- For?”

“For talking to them. I didn’t want to be selfish by bringing it up, so thank you. For helping me say it. Indirectly.” Woojin let his thumbs rub against one another, hyperaware of Chan’s eyes on him.

“Can I ask you something?” Chan’s voice was as small as before. And Woojin decided that he absolutely hate it.

“Sure, shoot away.”

“Why’d you avoid me? Did I do anything wrong?”

Woojin could sense the sniffle that almost slipped by the end of Chan’s question. He stayed silent. He knew that sooner or later Chan would of confronted him about it. But expecting and experiencing your expectation is very much different. Woojin had come to that conclusion earlier in the year. He expected him and Chan to easily drift apart. Considering how much friend the latter have, Woojin betted with himself that it would only take Chan around a week to stop caring about him.

Except that Woojin lost the bet.

“I..” Woojin came to another silence. And Chan patiently waited. He always had.

“I just thought you deserve a better friend.” Biting his lower lip, Woojin was trying to avoid Chan’s eyes.

“When I already have the best? That’s almost impossible, you know.” If Chan wasn’t staring before, he definitely is now.

“Chan..” Woojin let the air carry his voice away. “I’m not that great of a person you thought I am. My family is struggling, how can I even expect to be happy in my personal endeavours?”

“But doesn’t mean you don’t deserve it.” Chan’s voice low, almost a low rumble in his chest but Woojin could make it out loud and clear anyway. “Life’s too short. And out of everyone I know, you deserve to be the happiest.”

“But I still am not.”

“Maybe after you stop holding back and pretending you don’t feel anything.” Chan’s words intended no malice, but Woojin felt it cut through his soul anyway.

“I don’t know..”

“You do know, Woojin. You know there are things that make you happy. We’re too young to be acting all grown up. Let adults do that.” It was hard for Woojin to swallow when Chan coaxed the words out.

Chan was right. Sometimes Woojin didn’t mind being wrong, when it comes to Chan. And for once he wanted to be himself. To stop holding back. To stop pretending as if he was okay. Sometimes he just wanted to curl up and cry himself to sleep. And that sometimes might also be right about now.

*

Never once Chan’s eyes left Woojin. He kept his eyes there, watching as the tanner hug his knees, eyes shimmering before tears brimming his pretty eyes and he let the flood gate down. Chan let Woojin cry. It was only when Woojin was sobbing into his knees that Chan got up and sit by his bed. One arm reaching over to rub on Woojin’s arm in a soothing side hug, Chan hoped he’d get to see his warm Woojin again. 

His warm Woojin. His.

“I’m sorry for being an asshole..” Chan almost couldn’t make the sentence out.

“It was your situation, it was never you.” By now Chan was pulling Woojin into his arms, hoping the latter would know that Chan meant he’d always be there.

“How can you be real..” Woojin muttered, more to himself but Chan heard that anyway. “Did it hurt when you fell from heaven?”

And Chan never felt like slapping and kissing someone silly so much in his life until that moment.

“It didn’t hurt because a fallen angel caught me. And that’s you.” Chan smiled gleefully, enjoying how Woojin was even more flushed than before. Maybe it was his fever.

“Does that mean you’d go for a movie with me after this fever?”

“Well, sounds like a plan.”

And if they shared the whole journey back to Chan’s place holding hands, no one should know. Even if Chan stood stupefied in front of his door yet again after Woojin left with a hand over his lips, no one should know. Not Minho, not Jisung, not Hyunjin, not anyone.

Maybe that was Chan’s best part. And Woojin’s too.

**Author's Note:**

> happy belated birthday stays!  
i was on twitter and the ivy club pictures sent me right to the grave of writing 3k+ word vomit i hope it makes sense <3  
can we be moots, pretty please?  
hmu @kimbanghwang


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